


Leaky Buckets

by vega_voices



Series: You Are Like That, [2]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, F/M, I hate them but I love them, So much angst, The Q and the Gray, look something happened on New Earth okay, references to New Earth, references to Resolutions, these two fucking idiots, they are long lingering looks and angst, they are stupid and they love each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26727655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: And, well, he wasn’t all that upset when she reminded the snitty little God who was, in fact, the real man in the room.
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway
Series: You Are Like That, [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861696
Comments: 14
Kudos: 29





	Leaky Buckets

**Title:** Leaky Buckets   
**Author:** vegawriters  
 **Fandom:** Star Trek: Voyager  
 **Series:** You Are Like That,  
 **Pairing:** Kathryn Janeway/Chakotay (realized and USTY)  
 **Timeframe:** The Q and the Gray  
 **Rating:** M  
 **A/N:** Voyager was a romance told through the eyes of Goddesses. That is all.   
**Disclaimer:** Star Trek is owned by people who make a lot of money over my fangirling. I write fic and dream of tie-in novels. And I also retcon and explain what was really going on. Also, please support Tess Gallagher’s work. She’s brilliant and this series wouldn’t exist without her _Dear Ghosts,_ anthology. 

**Summary:** And, well, he wasn’t all that upset when she reminded the snitty little God who was, in fact, the real man in the room.

**Unspoken**

_Put a tight seal  
on the heart, that leaky bucket._

_The heart saved against speaking.  
The one that doesn’t speak at all.   
The one that stands next to   
speaking._

Just that?

_Only that._

-Tess Gallagher

It wasn’t every First Officer in Starfleet who could put in his mission log that he’d helped to stop a civil war in the Q Continuum, and yet, there it was. If Starfleet ever read these, they’d never believe it. But, then again, Picard’s encounters with Q were available to access and they seemed to believe that Q had plopped the entire crew of the Enterprise-D into Sherwood Forest. Was Picard really believable as Robin Hood? Chakotay wasn’t so sure he could see the legendary man robbing the rich to save the poor. Now, giving a lecture about the need to do it? That fit his profile. 

But finally free of Q’s invasions, safely back on track to the Delta Quadrant, he really didn’t care about updating logs or checking mission parameters. He didn’t give two craps about who won the war in the Continuum. He cared about the woman who had retreated to her sanctuary, who had been Q’s intended. What utter bullshit, really. Just showing up and expecting Kathryn to jump into his arms? For an all-knowing creature of eternity, Q really was pretty stupid. 

“Harry,” Chakotay finally said when he couldn’t stop staring at the doors to the all-too familiar ready room, “you have the bridge.” When the over-eager Ensign (who probably deserved a promotion) all-too happily jumped to orders, Chakotay made his way across the platform, looking for an excuse to bother her. At a minimum, they could work on the mission log together, but really, he just wanted to talk to her. To touch her. Maybe she could at least be convinced to eat some dinner. Truth was, his libido had been racing overtime since before Q showed up and almost destroyed the universe. 

Oh, he’d known what she was up to that day when they stood so close together while watching the supernova. Enraptured by the beauty of the cosmos, all Chakotay had wondered was if maybe, just maybe, she’d finally come to her damn senses. She’d rubbed that point on her neck as she turned to him, massaging that ever-tight muscle, and daring to suggest he come work with her on the report. He’d seen it in her eyes, that slight twinkle he’d come to know so well down on New Earth. At first, she’d been so cautious of space that existed where once they’d had a wall. Even after their first night, when he’d stood and walked around the table and drawn her into his arms for the kiss he’d been waiting almost two years for, she’d been so careful with herself. She reminded him of B’Elanna that way, truthfully - hiding behind walls rather than allowing any chance for pain, or really, happiness. But he’d kissed her and they’d lost track of time and space, and even then, for days after, she’d look for that excuse to be touched, even when she didn’t need to do anything other than come to him. 

He knew that look and he was so tempted to follow her to her quarters, to help her off with that uniform, to rub that tight muscle until she turned to jelly in his arms. He wanted her to arch back into him and feel his hands as they moved down her chest. So, he did the only logical thing he could do - he sent her to bed and assigned himself to work with Harry. After all, they had rules, and just because they’d been feeling more comfortable lately, just because they’d risked a few dinners and even one almost-stolen kiss down on the streets of Los Angeles since that heartbreaking conversation their first night back from New Earth, he wasn’t going to push past a line that he knew she didn’t want to cross. Her arguments were right. They made sense. But it didn’t stop his heart from breaking as he watched her walk away. 

Nor did it make it any easier when she confessed why Q had shown up. Mate with her? How crass and disgusting. How …

“I know I don’t have any right to feel this way,” he’d said, his heart and mouth running ahead of his sense of logic and self preservation, “but …”

She stood up and met his eyes and her warm hand on his arm almost broke him. Damnit, Kathryn. This wasn’t fair. “Chakotay …” 

But he didn’t get to say what he wanted to say. He didn’t get to take her hand and link their fingers and remind her that she was - 

No. She wasn’t his. She couldn’t be. And all of the late night dreams and all-too awake fantasies didn’t change that. She wasn’t his and that at some point, he’d have to move on. For both of their sake. But he’d needed to say something, had almost said something. Luckily for both of them, Q showed up. And, well, Chaktoay wasn’t all that upset when Kathryn reminded the snitty little God who was, in fact, the real man in the room. 

But now, Q was gone and there was still that half-finished conversation. So he left Harry in charge and touched the chime on the ready room. The doors slid open at her command. Kathryn raised her head and met his eyes and any pretense he had of discussing the mission logs fled his mind. He held perfectly still, meeting her gaze, and he just wasn’t sure what to say or how to say it, so he waited, watching, until decorum forced him into the room and the doors slid shut behind him. “I keep thinking …” she said softly, trailing off as she moved away from her desk and to the couch. A steaming pot of coffee waited for them but she ignored it as she sat down. 

When she didn’t continue, Chakotay stepped forward. He put the PADD in his hand down on her desk and moved to the couch to join her. He poured the coffee and she smiled when he handed it to her. “About?”

She didn’t sip the coffee. Instead, she met his eyes and didn’t look away and the words that came from her mouth were nothing like he expected and yet were everything he’d been thinking. “What if I’d … what if I’d gotten pregnant down on New Earth.” 

Silence filled the air and a part of him, that part of him that still ached after Seska’s treachery, coiled around his gut. How dare she see through him, find that tiny part of his soul he couldn’t shake away, the part of him that had been happily boxed up and left behind like the shelter on New Earth. “I’ve been thinking about it too,” he confessed. “I thought about it a lot down there, if I’m being honest.” 

She took a shuddering breath and he risked putting down his own coffee and reaching for her. When she didn’t pull away, he allowed himself the conceit of wrapping his arms around her and she leaned against him, still holding her coffee, the steam rising up between them. “I wasn’t, by the way, if you were wondering. I wouldn’t keep that from you. Especially not after what Seska did.” 

He knew, but it was still good to hear. “Thank you.” 

Silence filled the ready room, and Chakotay was glad this was happening here and not in her quarters, where he wouldn’t be able to stop going beyond the kiss he stole when she lifted her face to him. Hand shaking, he took the coffee from her and placed it on the table, before leaning in to kiss her again. Her moan sent a shock through him and instinct took over and he pushed her back down onto the couch, pressing into her. Only when she gasped did he pull back, clearing his throat, trying to find some sense of decorum. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I suspect I’m still feeling possessive after all of that. And I shouldn’t. We made our decision a while ago.” Really, it had been her decision, but he would support her. Forever. 

She half-smiled and let him draw her back against him. “It isn’t easy for me, you know. In case you were wondering how I’m managing all of this.” 

“I saw the look in your eyes the other night. I know.” He risked the gentle touch along her side as she cuddled close. Moments like this were so very rare. 

“Part of me knows I’m being foolish. I hope you realize that.”

“Hopefully that part will win out someday.” They both laughed. “I miss you,” he said quietly. “Everything I ever said to you down on New Earth, I meant it then and I mean it now.” 

Gently, he stroked his hand down her arm and again, she raised her lips to his. He kissed her, tenderly, not allowing the moment to go beyond the most light of touches. “Chakotay …” she sighed as they broke apart and he could see the invitation in her eyes, the prayer that he would just take control and make the decision for them. But, he wouldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t. He understood her reasons. 

“Just a reminder,” he said as he stood up, “Starfleet doesn’t like to regulate people’s personal lives.” 

She sighed and rolled her eyes but didn’t ask him to stay. “I miss you,” she said again. “My bed is far too cold for my tastes.” 

He wanted to offer her a compromise, but knew he couldn’t just have something casual with her. He couldn’t just slip into her bed when they both needed release. He’d been in love with her since day one. It was silly and mystical and more than a little stupid, and he didn’t care. He’d never believed in soul mates until he looked into Kathryn Janeway’s eyes and if that meant he needed to wait until she was ready, then he’d wait. But, that didn’t stop him from taking her hand and drawing her up to him. “Mine, too.” The kiss this time held more promise, a reminder that he was ready when she was. “I should go,” he murmured when they broke apart. 

“I know …” 

Silence. Still, cautious, pregnant silence. 

He wasn’t sure what snapped, what forced him into the moat around her walls, but his hands tightened on her waist and before his mouth could cover hers again, she called for the computer to lock the doors. Gods and Spirits, he knew this was a damn mistake but he couldn’t help himself. Not right now not when --

Not when the universe had other plans. 

Somewhere between his hand moving up inside her uniform jacket and hers reaching for his zipper, the door chime broke them apart and he watched Kathryn straighten herself and smooth her hair and suddenly she was the Captain again. He was not sure he was so composed. “Come in,” she called. Harry walked in, reports in hand, completely oblivious to the tension. “Oh, Harry!” She joined him at her desk. “Thank you so much for these. Do you have a moment to go over the Ops report you sent me?”

Nonplussed, Harry nodded, the ever energetic hope to prove himself worthy bubbling to the surface. So Chakotay did what she did so much better, he forced a smile to his face and walked over to the door. “Thank you, Captain.”

“You’re welcome!” She called after him. “Oh, Chakotay,” she cleared her throat and met his eyes. “We’ll talk later.” 

He nodded and slipped out before he ordered Harry to a week’s worth of scrubbing floors on deck fifteen.

***

Kathryn couldn’t remember the last time she’d fantasized about Mark. No, when her eyes closed at night and she sought relief for the coil of tension in her belly, the body she imagined next to her was tall and dark and knew how to touch her more than any lover she’d ever had previously. Down on New Earth one night, when they’d been stretched out, absolutely naked under the stars, he’d told her how she made him believe in soul mates. It was unabashedly romantic and she’d fallen in love with him all over again and then he’d only sweetened the deal by keeping her on the edge of an orgasm for what felt like hours before she shattered apart in his arms, keening out to the sky in ways her internal prim and proper self had never expected to allow. 

Love. What a strange concept, really. 

She truly loved Mark. She loved his smile and his easy reaction to her rather chaotic lifestyle. She loved his passion for his work, and the way he was more than happy to obsess over the planning of the wedding. She loved how he touched her, how in his arms she always felt like she could fly. She loved his stability, his desire for a family, the reminder that there was more to life than the stars only warp nacelles could reach. 

But Mark was a lifetime away and while she never wanted to give up hope, there was a reality that by now, he thought she was dead. Lost to space. She hoped he was happy, in whatever life he was finding. She hoped he could move on and if clinging to some lifeline of him helped to keep her sane when she was sitting just inches from Chakotay on the bridge, then she’d take it. She’d take anything at this point. Because if being out here had taught her anything, she could love both of them - the memories of Mark and the reality of Chakotay. They existed together in the mess she called her mind. 

Hours removed from the ready room, she could still feel Chakotay’s hands tightening on her waist, his mouth on her neck. She’d known what promises that touch held as she ordered the computer to lock the door. Had Harry not shown up, she’d have thrown out all of the rules and torn down the wall and just let it happen. She wanted it to happen. Instead, she let Harry drone on for an hour about the Ops report while she tried and failed to focus on what her over-eager Ops officer had to tell her instead of on the lingering taste of Chakotay’s lips against hers. Oh, this had to stop. 

But, see, she loved him. She’d loved him since she looked into his eyes and she’d long since given up the ghost of guilt over Mark and now just needed to find her own confidence in what it meant to let her walls go. And she knew that and she hated herself for not being able to just allow for something good for herself. A good therapist, she was sure, would tell her it was a punishment for stranding her crew in the quadrant. How dare she fall in love and find happiness while they were all praying for a return to their loved ones. She could blame Mark’s memory, and the crew, but the truth was, she just wasn’t sure she was ready to risk the questions that everyone was already asking. When she’d told Q there wasn’t another man, they’d all known she was lying. But this was a Starfleet ship and while Starfleet didn’t like to “regulate people’s personal lives,” she was still the captain and he was her first officer and beyond all of the questions about trust from the crew - one day, she might have to order him to his death and there was only so much pain she could actually take. 

As if ordering him to his death would be any easier even if they weren’t sleeping together? Did the wall really help that much? Were they already breaking down the walls they’d put in place? 

What would she have done if she’d come back from New Earth pregnant? Would she have just tossed up her hands and given in to her heart? She hadn’t thought about that wrinkle, not really, until Q had shown up and thrown her own questions back in her face. Now, she couldn’t help but wish for it to have happened. How silly. But Q had put the idea of children back in her head, and now she needed to let the idea play out, needed to let it live and breathe and then fade into the whispers of a hope she’d set aside when Tuvok’s voice had crackled through that communicator on a calm morning on a planet she could never forget. 

One day, back on New Earth, before Voyager reappeared, long after their first kiss which led to so many more, the rain had fallen so hard she’d been sure it would break right through the lean-to. They’d huddled in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, counting heartbeats between claps of thunder. Eventually, he’d rolled her to her back and while the storm raged outside, he’d traced every part of her body with his fingertips, following close behind with feather kisses, until she was crying out for him long before he slipped inside of her. She’d come apart in his arms as the winds moved on and when they woke, still wrapped up in each other, she’d known she could be happy in this new life fate had granted them. 

Tonight, her fingers traced that pattern, lifting the satin of her nightgown up over her hips, tracing feather touches with only the barest of a graze. Her mind went not to a man back in the Alpha quadrant, but the man just a few doors away. She could see him, stretched out on his own bed, reading, probably. They’d developed a pattern after time, curled up, reading together, sharing passages from favorite books until the books were set aside and she crawled into his lap and the only words that mattered were the ones they gasped as they brought each other over the edge again and again. They hadn’t been together long enough to get past the sweet and tender stages of lovemaking, still exploring each other, still learning what the other desired. One night, finding her courage, she’d touched herself for him, her legs falling open as her fingers slid through the slickness between her thighs. He’d waited until she called his name before descending upon her, claiming her, and she’d lost herself in how their bodies danced together. 

Was he thinking of that night now? Was his hand wrapped around his cock, stroking, while he thought of her? Did she have the right to hope she was the woman in his mind? But his kiss tonight reminded her he hadn’t given up. That he wanted her still as badly as she wanted him. 

How long would he wait? How long could she? When did it just become toxic longing? 

Her fingertips tugged through the fine thatch of hair at the junction of her legs, dipping lower into the wetness that had pooled there the moment Chakotay had kissed her. Slowly, ever so slowly, she circled her clit, taunting herself, teasing, remembering how his mouth moved against her, how his tongue crafted arias to her body. 

One call. She knew he’d be there. She knew he’d tap in the code to her quarters and stalk into the bedroom and they’d figure out everything in the morning. 

“Everyone already thought we were sleeping together,” he’d teased her over breakfast after their first morning together. “Too bad we didn’t prove them right until now.” 

Slowly, she slid one finger into her body, stroking, pressing. Kathryn brought her knees up, adjusting position, as her thumb pressed her clit. She couldn’t leave this too long, couldn’t let it linger. He was already too close for safety. Get it over, let her mind explode, move on and move on quickly. 

_I know I don’t have any right to feel this way …_

She flicked her finger against her clit, arching her back as she moved her thumb and finger together, rolling the small nub of nerves almost to the point of pain. Her breath caught. 

Oh, Chakotay, her mind tossed about, you had every right to feel that way. She was so vitally unfair to both of them. He needed to move on. He needed a happiness she couldn’t provide. 

_Come for me, Kathryn … let me watch you unravel …_

Still, her free hand tugged her nipple through the satin of her nightgown before she pulled the pillow over her face, as her body reached zenith and she shouted his name into the void of stars beyond her view port. 

How vitally unfair. 

A sob escaped her and she rolled over, knowing the smart thing to do would be to get up and wash her hands and her face, to just let it all go. Instead, she stared out at the stars racing by and cursed cowardice and gods and a sense of duty that she still just couldn’t shake. 

Someday, maybe. 

Someday.


End file.
